Dalibor is a semi-canon Dragonriders of Pern site. No knowledge of the series or site is required to join; players of all experience levels are welcome here. Founded in 2008 on Proboards and moved to Jcink in 2013, Dalibor has been running for nine years.

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Autumn, 18th Turn, 11th Pass

Upcoming Flights/Runs:

Upcoming Hatchings:Copper LaanasuthCopper Zelsk

With two clutches hardening on the Hatching Sands the big question seemed to be: which will hatch first?

The answer came in short order with Copper Zelsk's clutch breaking shell moments before Copper Laanasuth's. With so many eggs surely the dual hatching offers hope to the numerous Candidates who fill Dalibor's ranks. Only time will show who will come away with a lifemate of their very own...

Dalibor was created by Bre, continued by Cathaline, and is now owned and operated by Ruin. Most of the information, rules, and graphics were made, compiled, or written by staff with credit given to those whose resources they used. Stock thanks to credited parties. All characters and posts are copyrighted to the members of the game. No material from this site should be copied in any way, shape, or form without utter express permission from the members and staff. All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's 'Dragonrider of Pern' series are copyright Anne McCaffrey 1967-2017, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with general permission for non-commercial purposes without monetary gain.

Morning found Aglaktii tucked safely within the confines of her weyr, wringing the last moments of sanctuary from it that could be got before Kangath could no longer be contained. They were both morning people—and Kangath was ‘people’ so far as his rider was concerned, both wise as an elder and innocent as an infant, and no more a mere beast than her dear Icehowler was—but the Burgundy took the term to new lengths. He was up before sunlight had crested the lip of the eastern wall, although they had at least reached a compromise in which he could see himself down to the feeding pens and back before insisting that Aglaktii begin her work, too. And there was little work to be done as of late. Still in the late stages of winter and post-illness, Dalibor was in a state of hibernation borne of weariness and despair. They had lost so many folk, bonded or not. Even one of Kangath’s siblings had leapt between… and never come back. All of her medicinal plants had been harvested for the season, the dirt emptied from their leather pots, the seeds saved for spring. For all the good that it had done. Her eyes glanced over and off the satchels that now bore the dried remains of those beloved plants. Some of the Healers had promised to look into their usage further, but no one had had time right then, not with the plague of their heads. Not with Aglaktii too far gone into fever to properly explain their use, or to come off as anything other than mad.

Aglaktii pulled the fur from her bed to wrap around her shoulders, not necessarily cold but relishing the feeling of bone-deep warmth. She had eschewed the usual asceticism of the Weyr-borns’ weyrs—naked stone was intolerably suffocating, so she had embellished every surface as well as could be managed from her meager stores. Furs broke up the outlines of the floor and hung from the few natural outcroppings set into the walls, held there by polished river stones. She had gathered wherry bones, feathers, branches, anything of the natural world that might be acquired, and tied and twisted them together into wall hangings that shifted and clicked together whenever the wind came through. In one corner was a large brazier, its coals currently dead, that still wafted the faint smell of burning herbs. It was a nice room, and it was hers, but it was not home. Half rider, half Wastewanderer, it was as incongruous in this place as she still so often felt. Chinuk, her Icehowler, was curled into a tight ball at the end of the bed, still snoring, and the sound of him filled her with a terrible homesickness. She was lonely here.

No excuse for that, mate, Kangath chided. It was good timing—he had been out to hunt among the herdbeasts, though in the end decided on a wherry more appropriate to his size. Waste not want not. He landed lightly on his ledge and wedged the whole front half of his body through his half of the weyr into hers. If he really wanted to he could have come all the way inside—and he did still, on occasion—but he had a habit of breaking things and perhaps it was better to keep ones’ tail out of mischief. C’mon now, buck up, let’s see if we can’t find a bit of fun. Truthfully, he was still full of frustration at the loss of his sibling. Lyreth had been part of his family, his group! It wasn’t fair that His had not survived. But there was no one to be angry at, and so all Kangath could really focus on was cheering up his rider.

“You know I can look after myself. And I’m not so affected as the rest of them, you know.” She rose and hugged the warm brown of Kangath’s snout with unabashed affection. He whuffed and the spicy smell of dragon filled the space, mingling with leather, fur, and herbs. “The People are used to death. There is little safety on the plains, even in numbers. Icemaulers, illness, starvation, sheer cold—these Weyr-people are soft to loss.” Fair dinkum, mate.

He watched with impassively whirling eyes while his rider moved through her morning routine, lost interest, and wandered back to his ledge. A sudden thought lit those same eyes up with excited green. Feeling his surge of emotion Aglaktii went out to join him, dressed without her formal riding leathers yet but in the full warmth of a Wastewanderer’s usual garb. It was only the work of a few minutes to outfit him in his own riding harness—she had an easier time of it than the younger weyrlings, or those not accustomed to strenuous activity. Someday she would be tempted to not bother with such things, especially for something so short as the flight they were about to take, but the Weyrlingmaster had had a sobering effect on the already serious woman. Bracing himself on his tail, Kangath reared up, launched himself into the air… and promptly landed on the ledge next door. They had been in the air for less than a second.

How ya going, Ingoth? the Burgundy called with familiar ease to his much-larger sibling. It had not occurred to him that she might take umbrage with his taking up part of her ledge, but she was not quite full-grown, and there was more than enough space for both of them yet. He reared up again, his forepaws making their familiar boxing motions as Aglaktii slid down from his neckridges. I reckon Mine needs a mate right about now, and maybe yours does too. Aglaktii hesitated on the cold ledge, somewhat more concerned for decorum than her dragon. What if the Red or her rider should take offense? It wasn’t the usual way to greet someone. So she waited, not quite uncertain but not willing to press the matter until Kangath had tested the waters a little further.

Ingoth, lying on her couch inside her portion of Cairenn's weyr, clearly did not expect company, quickly stuffing something she was holding into one of the clattering pile of herdbeast bones that she had collected around her couch. "Good morning, brother," came the red dragon's traditionally growling reply, her voice unchanged as she matured. Her swirling green/blue eyes showed that the growl was merely her natural mindvoice, however, and she was not openly bothered by her clutchbrother's sudden appearance on her weyr ledge, and she continued, "It feels as if it has been a while since we have spoken outside of Ours' lessons. What brings you to my ledge today?"

Hearing his response, she sat quietly for a moment, then replied in a quieter mindvoice, "Mine has separated from the others for many months now, and so I have watched the pack from the outside, as is my way. I do not know what her reaction would be to someone approaching her at this point, but you may try." Her mindwords were sent to both Kangath and Aglaktii, and she then added, "She is awake, but meditating. It would be best to not disturb her until she is done. I will let her know you are here, if you would like."

Kangath, finding no aggression to stop his path, was so bold as to poke his head into Ingoth’s inner weyr. He noted the collection of bones that adorned its walls, not much for interior design himself, but it reminded him of Aglaktii’s weyr and so felt more homey than morbid. He was certain his rider had some bones too, in among the river stones and dried plants, though he did not know why that made it any better a space than bare stone and his own body to fill the whole thing.

Aglaktii, though no less bold, had a healthy ingrained fear of anything that made noises quite like Ingoth did. The Weyrlingmaster was very clear that no dragon would ever knowingly harm a human, any human, even one invading its personal space, but even a telepathic growl was enough to set her back on her heels. But Kangath was steadfast, and not so prone to misunderstanding his own kinds’ intentions. He used the crook of his wingjoint to shepherd her forward. A dragon wouldn’t get cold hanging about on the ledge during the deep of winter, and maybe a well-dressed Wastewanderer wouldn’t either, but he knew she was at least capable of cold. The young woman bowed to Ingoth, her own eyes glancing over the assortment of bones. Like an Icemauler’s den, but warm with the comforting scent of dragon. It was a disconcerting combination.

“Good morning, Ingoth. If it will not disturb her, I would be indebted if you would let her know we are here. I would be glad for her company.” She knew it wasn’t much done, but it felt wrong not to address the Red as she would any other person, even if she were a much larger, toothier version. Kangath did not always need to act as a go-between.

The Burgundy hummed a thoughtful noise and dipped his head in response. His voice was for Ingoth alone this time. Fair dinkum mate, we’ve all been spewin’ these days. His head dipped a little lower, not quite guilty, but feeling somewhat complicit in Ingoth’s isolation. He had not reached out much either, in part because of Aglaktii’s reluctance to integrate with Weyr life, but in part also due to his own desire to take their work seriously. Too seriously, maybe. Gotta work harder to get a real mob togetha, gotta stop muckin’ around with nothin’ but lessons and uppin’ ourselves, eh mate? But maybe they’ll give each other a fair go and be friendly-like.

The red dragon, perched on her couch, towered over the young woman as she was shepherded into the room... even at a little over halfway to maturity, even Ingoth's eye was about the size of the girl's entire torso. She nodded once at Aglaktii's request, paused for a moment, then replied, "She is aware of your visit, and will be out as soon as she is finished." Directly to Kangath, Ingoth sent, "We have lost two of our clutchsiblings... Lyreth could not resist the call of between after losing his to disease, but Quoth's just... left us. I don't want to lose any more of us... I don't know what drove Quoth's away, to take her with him, so I don't know what to do, or what to avoid, to keep us from losing another. It pains me to lose any of my pack, but to something that might have been avoided... that is the worst pain of all. Mine was never close to any of the others, and has only grown more distant as time has gone on... perhaps together we can learn how best to keep the pack together, keep us from losing anyone else." As she mindspoke, Kangath could likely hear the pain and self-doubt evident in Ingoth's mindvoice, even beneath the natural growl that was always present.

A few minutes later, a stirring behind the leather curtain separating the couch room from the bedroom presaged Cairenn emerging, her arms snaking around herself from the shock of the temperature change and her eyes squinting from the increased brightness of the room, exposed to the outdoors as it was. She had clearly done nothing to prepare for company despite the warning, her thick chocolate brown hair frazzled and wild, and wearing nothing but a sleeveless, mid-thigh white cotton nightshirt and white cotton slippers. Exposed to the air as they were, the lines of muscle tone in her legs and arms were clear, a far cry from the soft smoothness of her muscles from her time as a Candidate and the beginning of weyrlinghood. Gone, too, was the impression of overblown confidence from her face and posture, replaced with a look of calm acceptance... the look of someone who knew she didn't have to impress anyone except herself. "Hello, Aglaktii, what brings you here?" Cairenn asked, walking over to Ingoth's couch, wherein the dragon lowered a massive claw and easily helped the girl up to sit upon the red's tail, her back against Ingoth's rump and her legs propped over her bonded's folded tail.

“Thank you, Ingoth.” Aglaktii made a very formal bow, the expression clearly well-practiced. She rarely bothered with such things when it came to Kangath, but he was both a less-formal sort of dragon to begin with, and close enough that it felt a little silly. Even if she respected him as much as any dragon, even if he were less serious than some. Though the emotions that filtered through their connection at that moment were rising to a pitch a touch more than ‘serious,’ and she wondered what it was that the two were talking about, for it was very clear that they were. But he was his own person, and she would not demand that he keep no secrets from her, even if they were being whispered right overhead. The Burgundy clearly did have feelings about the loss of the two dragonets, and to take his feelings out reared back, making a few swipes at thin air with his forepaws.

And that’s a right sorry state of things! We’re stronger togetha, Quoth should’a known that. I have half a mind to go and tell her myself and bring them back. He paused in his boxing, dropping his head a little. I reckon Koeneth would have somethin’ to say about that though. He whumped back down onto all fours, no longer able to prop himself up indefinitely as in his younger days. He But Ingoth’s tone seemed to draw him out of his funk a little. Don’t let it wear you down, mate. Let’s keep it togetha and I’m sure we’ll come out all right.

Aglaktii kept her expression politely blank at Cairenn’s appearance, though her mind ran with ideas. What did it say that the other weyrling saw no reason to present a refined facade to her equal? Were they not equals at all, then? Or did it speak to comfort, familiarity, or just a notion that Aglaktii had better things to concern herself with? Or was it merely a sign of isolation—for the young woman clearly had been spending much time to herself, as her newly-forged physique hinted. She would clearly have to hold off on making an assumption.

“Cairenn.” Aglaktii made another bow, though if it leaned less formal than the one that she had given Ingoth it could not be helped. She stepped forward further into the Red’s weyr, laying a hand casually on Kangath’s forelimb, for if nothing else each of their dragons might bridge their emotional gap more easily. “If I may be honest, it was Kangath’s idea. It has not been an easy sevenday. He thought it might be easier with Ingoth, and with you.” It was a weak answer, she knew it, but she was not prepared to admit the deeper truths. That she was painfully lonely, and homesick as she had not been since she had left the Wastes. That her own weyr was driving her a little mad.

“I apologize for our lack of manners, I know it is not the usual way. I think we are both a little desperate for company but have forgotten how to be in it.” At least that last bit might stroke a similar chord in Cairenn, for she had obviously forgotten how to be in company, too.

"I do not blame Quoth," replied the red, her massive head drooping a bit as well, "She was never as concerned about the pack as either of us... she loved all. She had no ill intentions, she simply followed the whims of Hers, and I cannot blame her for that any more than I can blame Lyreth... we are nothing without our bondeds, and so we must follow their whims and suffer their mistakes. We can guide, but we cannot force." Ingoth's mindvoice was just as vicious-sounding as it was at her hatching, but it no longer held an edge of aggression like it once did... it seemed the calmness inherent in Cairenn's changed personality had an influence over her dragon, leading a philosophical bent to Ingoth's mindwords that was a bit unusual for the color.

Cairenn scoffed quietly and waved a hand dismissively when Aglaktii bowed, saying, "We are both only weyrlings, and in the exact same class to boot. I might be Wingsecond during lessons, but I honestly feel I was given it purely for riding a subqueen, as I don't feel I've earned the position in the slightest... and we're not in a lesson right now, anyway, this is purely a social call." She listened to the burgundyweyrling speak, and nodded faintly, replying, "I am sorry to hear that it has been difficult for you... I have, indeed, been quite isolated from others, so I had no idea you were having such troubles." Pausing, she seemed to notice her own sitting posture as opposed to Aglaktii's standing, and she added, "In fact, I'll use that to excuse my lack of seating for you... I am not used to hosting company." She sat awkwardly silent for a moment, as if she had no idea how to continue the conversation, then seemed to make a decision and sat up from her spot on Ingoth's tail, sliding down off the dragon's rump and over her tail, the back of her short nightshirt bunching up as she slid down and riding up to expose her bare lower half momentarily, though Cairenn did not seem to notice, either not noticing the exposure at all, or simply not caring. "If you're comfortable, perhaps we could speak in my bedroom, instead? It's much warmer in there, with a stove, and not exposed to the open ledge," she said once she reached the ground, indicating the room with an arm while the other wherry-pimpled limb kept protectively wrapped around her thinly-clad torso.

Kangath snorted in response, the air seeming to go out of him as he slumped down onto the floor of the cavern. He lay in a loose semi-circle in front of Ingoth’s couch, his tailtips near her head and his head near her tail, sprawled with nonchalant ease, as if he were just as at home as she was. Even in repose he was not entirely still, still full of an insistent energy that made his talons drum on the rock and his tail twitch from time to time. See now, that’s why I came ta ya, Ingoth. That sounds right smart. Terrifying with all the snarling, too, but once you got used to hearing it it was just how the Red was, wasn’t it? Some of the others thought he was violent too, and he did have to admit that he had landed a few blows in his time, especially before knowing Aglaktii. Though I don’t know as some of ‘em can be guided even. Didja know Mine took some special medicine to ‘em while they was all comin’ down sick? Didn’t use a bit of ‘em in the end. Might be they could’ve saved Lyreth’s but now we’ll never know. More quietly, almost guiltily conspiratorial, he added, Hurt Mine, that did. They’re still sore over it.

Aglaktii ducked her head to hide an embarrassed smile. Cairenn was quite right, and she was gradually becoming aware of her own strong leanings towards formality, even when they veered towards the unnecessary.

“You will have to accept my apologies, for my… stiffness. I am unaccustomed to Weyrborn company. Still. Perhaps we can be unaccustomed to company together then. We cannot possibly become worse at it for having practiced.” The silence stretched for an uncomfortable moment. The Wastewanderer was beginning to miss having a formal gesture to fall back on—at least it would have given her something else to focus on. Already her own foot was tapping in imitation of Kangath’s. But Cairenn was on the move soon after, and dark eyes followed her descent, noting distantly that the other had clearly been honing her body in her spare time. Like much of the Weyr she ran toward leanness, though Aglaktii could not fault them for that. Winter was a trifling season here and could be survived without a meat on your bones. Though the Redweyrling clearly did not understand how to dress for the weather, even if she had meant to stay indoors all day. The offer to join Cairenn in her room was met with the first hint of warmness, just a softening around the eyes but not quite a true smile.

“I would be much obliged for that, if it does not trouble you.” She stepped forward, giving Kangath a last affectionate pat on his nearest headknob as she went. As she came up alongside the other weyrling she quirked her head to one side, clearly still weighing all of the other’s words. “You are wrong, though. Nia would not have made you Wingsecond if you had not proved yourself capable. Ingoth too. She is not even the biggest, if that were a reason they picked anyone for it at all.”

Ingoth shook her head at Kangath's mindwords, her eyes washing over quickly with a flash of red at the news that deaths could have been prevented, before a glance from Cairenn had the red quickly fade back into a neutral blue as she mentally squelched the flash of rage from the red. "Some humans, like some of our own kind, can truly find themselves trapped in a web of their own confidence," replied Ingoth, after a moment of thought, "They find their knowledge and leadership so often needed to drive the less-confident to action, that to doubt themselves and lose that drive becomes anathema to their minds." Glancing over at Aglaktii, she added, "Perhaps Yours can use this incident to push herself to be more bold next time, require others to listen to her one way or another for their own good."

Cairenn waved off Aglaktii's apology like she did the bows that prompted it, replying quickly, "It is no problem... if it makes you more comfortable, it does not bother me. I just wished you to know that I don't feel it necessary, especially when it's just the four of us." As the burgundyweyrling continued, Cairenn added thoughtfully, "I had honestly given up on anyone having an interest in spending time with me and Ingoth... perhaps it would do us both good to regain some social practice, indeed, as I honestly have never been very good with people even before Ingoth."

Getting a positive response from Aglaktii, Cairenn smiled wanly and led the way to her bedroom, lifting and pushing past the leather drape that served as a door in the wood-poor Weyr, leaving it suspended momentary for Aglaktii to catch it before it simply fell back into place in the burgundyweyrling's face. Walking over to the small coal-burning stove along the wall, Cairenn carefully poked the orange coals in the stove with a metal rod, causing them to flare up again to a bright yellow-orange, then stood in front of the stove with her arms still crossed, letting the heat wash over her winter-cooled body. The room was spartan, with a simple bed piled with blankets and furs, neatly arranged with only a small divot matching the size and shape of Cairenn's bottom near the edge of the coverings... likely where she sat during her meditations. On a small chest of drawers sat a small, square wherrybone jewelry frame, where hung four or five simple earrings and necklaces, clearly well-maintained. Beside it, pushed towards the back edge and clearly unused for a while, were basic makeup pots. Beside them sat a round, polished mirrorstone beside a hairbrush and a comb. In the corner of the room, Carienn had apparently been lucky enough to have a room where the carver had discovered a natural spring, fed from the channels deep in the stone of the Weyr walls that fed into the Weyr Lake, with a small metal bowl for collecting the water on a stand before it, a small metal framework with a brazier for coals from the stove beneath it to heat the freezing-cold water if desired. The walls were completely bare except for two herdbeast skulls, cleaned and dried, hung on the walls with pitons with their empty eyesockets pointed at the doorway. The skulls were similar to the ones Ingoth often snuck onto the ledges of her clutchsiblings.

Finally seeming to have heated herself up sufficiently, the pink color returning to her cold-paled skin, Cairenn moved over to carefully scoop some coals into the brazier under her water bowl, followed by pressing the edge of the bowl against the wall spring to collect some water within, returning it to its stand once the bowl was half-full. After that, she moved to the chest-of-drawers, grabbing the mirrorstone and her hairbrush as she attempted to smooth the tangles and wild hairs of sleep from the chocolate-colored locks upon her head, wherein she asked, "Would you like me to summon a drudge with some food or drink? You can sit upon the bed, if you wish."

Even Kangath flinched a little at the sudden onset of red in his sister’s eyes. But she was in control of her emotions, or at least her Rider was, and that was enough to set him back to ease. I reckon if she hadn’ta been dyin’ of sickness herself she woulda had a real blue with those Healers, and nothin’ for them to do but listen. But she was right different. All burnin’ up and stumblin’. He tipped his head to the side, regarding the Riders’ back as they retreated into Cairenn’s weyr. Did Yours catch it too? Seemed like half the Weyr down there, all bumpin’ heads and carryin’ on. Now that it was in the past it felt so small. At the time he had been “carryin’ on” too, though perhaps he dealt with his emotions in a quieter, tougher way than some.

Aglaktii followed the other weyrling past the hanging curtain, taking it from Cairenn’s hand with a murmur of appreciation. She turned in a slow half-circle as the Redweyrling breathed her coals back into flame, clearly taking in the atmosphere and noting how the other had chosen to decorate. There was no judgment in her expression, but she did not bother to hide that that was what she was doing, either. She approached a few of the objects in particular that seemed to catch her attention harder—the jewelry frame, the mirrorstone. It was from there that she noted the spring that ran along the wall. Another small noise of appreciation. “Would that they had made such a thing in my weyr, though I cannot complain for having hot water always, even if it is a little walk away.” The convenience of it all still struck her, though with what emotion she was less certain. At Cairenn’s offer she did approach the bed, though could not bring herself to sit, and instead ran a hand over the furs, turning the corners to note the tanned leather beneath.

“No, unless you find yourself famished. I would not want to trouble anyone only to convenience myself.” The corner of her mouth twisted, that earlier emotion showing through more clearly. Perhaps it would have been more polite to simply stow it away for later processing, but instead she found herself speaking it out loud, putting words to it as she went and not knowing where they would lead. “I find that the people here called drudges are, generally, well-treated. But they do not appear to garner much respect. I should think that they have more useful things to be doing than fetching me food, when I might fetch it myself so easily.” She stroked the furs back into place, paced a few steps away from the bed, then back, struggling to think and be still at the same time. She was not anxious, just… active.

“The People do not make such distinctions. You are not born to a caste. You do the work for which you are best suited, or that you love to be doing, which so often become the same thing if they were not already.” Aglaktii studied the other weyrling, curious to see what reaction this might provoke. But it was an unfinished thought at best, and one that she would need to tumble in her own mind for a long time to come, no doubt. Switching tacks, she tilted her head to one side a little, her expression unclouding into open curiosity. “Ingoth said you were meditating when we arrived. What is that like? I understand the word, but not as a thing that must be started and then stopped, and could not be done in front of others.”

Ingoth nodded at the explanation, and replied, "Cairennmine avoided the sickness, luckily, likely in part due to our isolation from others. One of the advantages afforded by it, I suppose." After a moment, she added, "I am glad that yours recovered without further incident, despite the problems she faced from the Healers. To lose three packmates would have been..." The red's mindvoice trailed off as a swirl of grey across her eyes said more than any mindwords could have.

"No, I am not famished. If you are not, I can wait to eat in the dining hall later," she replied, then fell silent as Aglaktii let loose her rant, letting the other woman get it out of her system without interrupting her, continuing to run her comb through her hair. Switching to her brush, having gotten all the tangles out of her hair, Cairenn thought for a moment, then replied, "While I don't truly understand the situation with the holds, with the wealthy and powerful being treated as superiors to those not born to the right family, I feel that, here in the Weyrs, it's done similar to how your people do it. The drudges serve us faithfully, because we, in turn, serve them, and all of Pern, by risking our lives and the lives of our closest companions to battle Thread. We do this because it was what we were born to do... else, we would not have been Searched, not been chosen at the hatching." Finishing her brushing, her thick, chocolate-brown hair now smooth and shiny, she moved back over to the water basin and checked the temperature with a finger, nodding once and scooping most of the coals back into the stove out of the brazier. As she did so, she continued, "Truly, we fly Thread mounted on the backs of our closest loved ones... loved ones we're so close to, we literally feel their pain, and one often fails to survive life without the other. We do it because that is what we were meant to do, and I feel the drudges are honored to serve us, and allow us to focus on making sure we are as well-trained and practiced at fighting Thread as we possibly can be."

Taking a washcloth, she dipped it into the now-warm basin of water, letting it soak as she reached down to begin pulling her nightshirt off. She got about up to her waist before she suddenly seemed to realize that stripping in front of someone without asking them might be rude, and dropped the nightshirt back into place as she said, "I'm sorry, I like to wash myself in the morning before getting dressed, and I'm not used to guests. I don't know how you feel about nudity around the same sex, so if you'd like to leave while I wipe down, you may, or turn around. I am not embarrassed, but do not wish to cause you embarrassment." If Aglaktii decided to leave, Cairenn would call out that she was finished after a couple minutes, else she would answer the other woman's question while bathing herself, saying, "Meditating, for me, is simply spending time quietly, trying to remove as many sensory inputs as I can so I can just focus on my mind and my bond to Ingoth. It generally involves just sitting quietly in here, the sound of the water flowing down the wall helping drown out any errant thoughts, my eyes closed. It has truly helped me improve my bond with Ingoth, and keep her aggression and temper under control, avoiding any violent outbursts and helping us sync during our training. I can show you how I do it sometimes, if you'd like." After she finished cleaning herself, Cairenn would dress herself for the day, putting on a pastel emerald knee-length cotton long-sleeved dress with a high collar, thick cotton stockings, and a pair of tan wherryhide calf-length boots.

Yeah, that’s right lucky, Kangath echoed, his own eyes flickering gray at the edges. But he was no good at moping for long, he was too focused on the present for that. He lapsed into silence for a while, perhaps thinking long and running thoughts, but more likely enjoying the simple pleasure of being part of a group. Even if it were only a group of two. For now. Which led his thoughts along further, and then he was humming thoughtfully, head tilted at the Red Right then, now we know that we need to keep our mob togetha. But they’re some tough bones to crack. How are we gonna get ‘em all workin’ togetha when half of ‘em are so… so… His eyes whirled a more frustrated shade—it would not take much guessing to imagine which siblings he was thinking of. Aglaktii didn’t let him push them around physically anymore though. And he would have had a hard time of it anyway, now being so much smaller than most of real troublemakers.

It was Aglaktii’s turn to be quiet while Cairenn said her piece. She was no good at hiding that she disagreed at times, the twist at the corner of her mouth and the concerned furrow of her brow giving it away long before she could say so. “I suppose there is some truth to what you say. Perhaps it is different because we must fly Thread, which has never been a concern for the People. We have our own most-respected people… healers, story-tellers, our eldest… but no story-teller ever expected others to bring her meals when she had two good feet of her own.” She finally stopped pacing long enough to find a seat on the bed, absentmindedly smoothing the furs back into place where she had earlier ruffled them. “I was offered the choice to Stand—no one would have forced me to it. I wonder if the drudges are given the same choice? Even if we all need one another, for there’s no dragon didn’t need someone to raise the herdbeasts, nor a miner to hollow her weyr. I wonder if anyone ever gave them another choice.” She was still fidgeting with her hands, eyes moving from Cairenn to the leather hanging that separated them from their respective dragonets. She was beginning to wish she had brought Chinuk, as odd as it would have been—without him or Kangath near, she was distinctly aware of how often she looked to them for emotion support. But Kangath at least was never far, and sent a reassuring, No worries mate, which had a calming effect.

It took her nearly as long as Cairenn to realize what the other weyrling was about. She waved it off with a shrug. “No worries, mate.” It even rolled off her tongue with the same accent that Kangath had come from the egg with, clearly having rubbed off on her over the months. “There is perhaps less privacy than one might imagine in a yurt, and no shame in such things.” She did turn to the side and did her best to look in other directions, just for politeness’ sake. It was easier to manage with Cairenn talking about her meditation practices, and Aglaktii made thoughtful noises as she went on. “I would like to learn that, if it is free for sharing.” A sidelong glance at the older girl—if it were meditation that had hardened her body so, Aglaktii couldn’t very well refuse the offer to learn the secret. Though sitting quietly was never going to come easily to the Wastewanderer, and she knew it. She tried to school her expression at Cairenn’s clothing choices, struggled several times not to criticize, and finally settled on, “That looks a warmer choice than your previous one.” Do they not teach them how to avoid freezing to death? she asked Kangath in an aside, not self-conscious of her far warmer, more rustic garments, but wondering if it was her moral duty to teach the others how to dress for the weather.

"I do not know," Ingoth admitted, "Until now, I truly had not put any thought to it, feeling that observing from the outside and interjecting when necessary would be sufficient to keep them all safe. As it is, I am quite sure that some of our clutchsiblings will simply retreat further if they feel their hands are being forced... we will have to think on this, to be sure." Grabbing a herdbeast skull in one claw, the red juggled the bone thoughtfully between her paws, a move that had clearly become a sort of habit when the dragon was thinking.

Deeper in the weyr, Cairenn listened to Aglaktii speak, curious about the differences in the world of the Wastewanderers versus those in the Holds/Weyrs. As she finished, Cairenn replied, "Perhaps it's a matter of scale... do your people have any kind of widespread, specific threat like Thread to contest with, where only a certain rare kind of person can protect everyone? If you do not, perhaps that's why it's difficult for you to understand the role of drudges, at least when it comes to dragonriders... dragonriders must always be ready, and as well-trained as possible, and sometimes that doesn't leave time to do more basic tasks that others can easily accomplish for them. Drudges just aren't skilled enough in any specific thing, like raising herdbeasts or mining out weyrs, or else they would join a Crafthall, so they pull their weight by serving those who do have a more specific, important role, and in that way, they become important. Were they given a choice? I suppose not, but not everyone can be a dragonrider, and not everyone left can have enough skill to join a Crafthall... so what is there left for them to do? Everyone has to do their part, and that is their part."

The conversation then moved to meditation, and Cairenn nodded slightly, saying, "I can teach you, if you wish... or at least try. I learned to do it on my own, so I have never taught it to another, but I will be glad to make the attempt." At the comment on her clothing, Cairenn asked with a raised eyebrow, "That was my nightgown, you didn't think I was expecting to wander around the Weyr all day in that, did you?"

Kangath hummed a deep note, watching the herdbeast skull as if the metronome of its movement would spark some deeper thought. It’s tough, ain’t it? Half of ‘em want games, half of ‘em are too serious by half, and half of ‘em are so shy they might go between if a beetle bit ‘em on the bum. If he was concerned about his mathematics it didn’t show. Eighteen siblings was never going to be easy to keep track of. I’m sure somethin’ will come to us, we’ll just give it some time and see if we can’t help everybody along somehow. Give ‘em a little push is all. Maybe they won’t even notice.

Aglaktii snorted. It wasn’t Cairenn’s fault that she didn’t understand, the Wastewanderer couldn’t hold it against her specifically, but as a general symptom of a wider problem… “A widespread, specific threat? Yes, I can think of one. As for the rare person that can protect everyone, there are days I doubt as much, though I would hope there is some truth to stories that say we might. Certainly not a Weyr’s-worth of it.” The look she directed at Cairenn was particularly withering then, and Kangath’s head swung up and around at feeling the sudden shift in his Rider’s mood. “Dragonriders had enough time to invade ‘the Wastes,’ and go digging for our gems, and stealing our Icehowler pups, and slaughtering any People who stood against them, did they not? I suspect they might have more time on their hands than you give them—us—credit for.”

It was a bold thing to say, but Aglaktii did not feel bold for having said it. The fight went out of the Wastewanderer, and she slumped a little where she sat, head bowed to better focus on her own hands. She was worrying at a bone button on her jacket, as if rubbing it to a polished finish would distract from what she had said. It was easier to slip into a different conversation, one with less feelings attached. “I would be grateful for it. I suppose we might all need some measure of… finding peace, while the world goes on regardless.” Her eyes flicked up, raising an eyebrow right back at Cairenn. “I should hope you wouldn’t, for your own health. Let us hope you never need to venture from your weyr in the night, though. I would expect to find you frozen solid, like the man who tricked by Icemaulers to count their spots all night.” She smiled a little at that, her mood boosted at the memory of her own stories, even if they were unknown to the Redrider.